I planned it for three weeks.
The surprise. I wanted it perfect. I bought the dress I wore on our first date—the green one Jasper said made my eyes look like sea glass. I wrapped the gift myself, a vintage watch I'd found at an estate sale upstate. I made a reservation at The Plaza for dinner. I was going to tell him about the baby that night. Seven weeks along. Still early. Still secret.
I took a cab into the city. It was October. The air smelled like cold and smoke. I held the gift box on my lap and felt the bubbles in my chest. Excitement. The kind that made me feel like a kid.
I walked into The Plaza lobby at six forty-five. Fifteen minutes early. I wanted to check my hair in the restroom mirror before he arrived.
Then I saw him.
Jasper was standing near the elevators. He wore the navy suit. The one I liked. His back was to me but I knew the shape of him. The way he stood with his weight slightly forward. Impatient. Waiting for something.
I started toward him. I was smiling. I had the gift box in my hands.
Then Keyla walked in through the main entrance.
She wore red. A coat that moved like water. Her hair was down. She crossed the lobby and Jasper turned. He saw her and his face changed. Softened. He said something I couldn't hear and she laughed.
I stopped walking.
They moved toward the elevators together. Jasper's hand touched the small of her back. Just briefly. A guide. The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside.
I stood in the middle of the lobby holding a gift box and wearing a green dress.
The doors closed.
I looked at the elevator indicator above the doors. It climbed. Third floor. Fifth. Ninth. It stopped at twelve.
I told myself I was wrong. I told myself he had a meeting. I told myself Keyla was staying at the hotel and he was just walking her up. I told myself a lot of things.
I sat down in one of the lobby chairs. The leather was cold. I set the gift box on my lap. I watched the elevator doors.
No one came down.
I waited twenty minutes. Then thirty. Then forty-seven.
A couple walked past me holding hands. A businessman checked in at the desk. A woman in a fur coat collected her dog from the concierge. The world kept moving and I sat in a chair in a green dress watching elevator doors that never opened.
At seven thirty-two, I stood up. I walked outside. I got in a cab. I gave the driver my address.
When I got home, I took off the dress. I hung it in the back of the closet. I put the gift box on the top shelf. I got into bed.
Jasper came home at eleven fifteen. I heard his keys in the door. His footsteps on the stairs. He came into the bedroom and kissed my forehead. He smelled like hotel soap and something floral. Not his cologne.
"You're still awake," he said.
"Couldn't sleep."
"I'm exhausted. Meetings ran late." He pulled off his tie. "I'm sorry I missed dinner."
I hadn't told him about dinner.
"It's okay," I said.
He got into bed beside me. Within ten minutes, he was asleep.
I lay in the dark and pressed my fingertips to the inside of my left wrist. I counted my heartbeat. I told myself I was wrong about what I saw. I told myself I was wrong about the twelfth floor. I told myself I was wrong about the hand on her back and the way his face had softened when he saw her.
I told myself I was wrong until I almost believed it.
Almost.
I never mentioned The Plaza. Not when I lost the baby. Not when Keyla stood at the top of the stairs watching me bleed. Not when Jasper chose her again and again and again.
I buried it so deep I almost forgot it was there.
But it was always there.
Waiting.
The memory lived in my body like a scar under the skin. Invisible. Aching. Every time Jasper touched me. Every time he said Keyla's name. Every time he looked at me like I was the one imagining things.
I pressed my fingertips to my wrist and felt the pulse.
Still alive.
Still here.
Still wrong about everything I knew I'd seen.
